“Then what is it?”
Shaking my head, I stare down at my food, not sure how to explain it to her. I don’t know how to tell her why I don’t think I deserve her. I just feel like I don’t. She’s better than me and is going to do better than me in life. She doesn’t need me holding her back.
“I’m sorry about Friday,” I say.
“I know you are,” she answers firmly as she reaches across the table, palm up. I take her hand. “I love you, Jordan, and I’m happy with what we have. Sure, you do some questionable things sometimes, but it’s not your fault. I just need to try harder.”
“You shouldn’t have to try harder. I’m an adult.”
She nods. “Yeah, but that’s what you do when you love someone.”
Is it though? I’m not quite sure.
I get through the rest of the day without too many issues, which is in part due to my many cups of coffee and the fact one of my clients brought me a snack—a donut.
At the end of the day, when I’m done cleaning up, I pull up my schedule to see if there is a name in my schedule for Wednesday yet.
There are plenty of times we get famous people here, and though I don’t get starstruck, it’s cool to know something about them when they show. They like that. It puts them in a better mood and keeping their mood positive is important for recovery.
My Wednesday schedule pops up, all the colorful blocks right in front of my face. I scroll to my one o’clock, since that’s the spot I opened up, and nearly choke on air when I see the name that’s there.
Alex Brewer.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Alex
I’ve been dreading Wednesday since Mom informed me I’d be meeting Kearstin at precisely four-thirty pm at Luigi’s, which would have been fine if Britt hadn’t called merely an hour after Mom’s decree to let me know that her husband pulled through and got me into Sharks. They called while I was on the line with Britt to confirm my appointment at one pm.
Which means I’ll have to high-tail it out of the city during school traffic to go to this fucking date I don’t even want to go on.
Maybe it’ll be good for you. Maybe your mother is right. Maybe you just haven’t found the right woman because you’re too busy dicking around with assholes.
I’ve been thinking about her damn words all week.You haven’t had a girlfriendsince Brittany.
No, I haven’t been in a real relationship in years, but it’s not like I didn’twantthat. I liked the dom enough, but he didn’t see me as more than a fling. I liked Laura, my ice rink co-worker enough, but she ghosted me after we had sex and then quit the rink, so I took that to mean she wasnotinto me, and she never called me again, which was pretty clear. I loved Britt, and we spent nearly five years on and off together, even though we both knew we were biding our time until something better came along.
Then there was Jordan. The guy I really, really fucking liked. The one I was nuts for. The one I’d pined for, for three fucking years. But Jordan was like a time bomb waiting to go off. Always ticking, counting down the moment to explosion. I loved it. The night of Austen’s wedding, after the explosion…
I think about that night all the time.
Yeah, the sex was great. It’s always fun with the guys who insist they don’t like gay shit, when in fact they do. They are always the messiest, and I love a good hot mess.
But it’s not his dick down my throat that I think about, though I’ve found myself thinking about that more times than I want to admit when I’m alone with my cock in my hand.
No, I’m the dumbass who thinks about the soft shit. Theemotionalshit.
His fingertips brushing my shoulder as he laid down with me.
His kiss that shut me up.
The warmth of his body where I rested against him.
Sex is easy. It’s always been easy for me, because I know how to be what they want.
Sexy. Kinky. In charge.
Aside from Britt, there’s only been one other person in my life who looked at me and understood what Ineeded,not what I wanted. Who gave it to me without question, and didn’t judge me for it. And he fucking hates me now.
